


Found in the Throes of Lunacy

by undeadpsycho13



Category: Endgame Series - James Frey & Nils Johnson-Shelton
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeadpsycho13/pseuds/undeadpsycho13
Summary: The Nabatean is too soft, too annoying, too honourable.  Does he have to wake him up?  Would it not be easier to put him to eternal slumber?But no, Maccabee gave him his hand, and Baitsakhan feels indebted to that, ridiculous, suit-wearing boy.  Baitsakhan cannot be indebted to anyone, dead or alive.If he’s dead, how will Baitsakhan pay him back?And maybe –– just maybe –– Baitsakhan is starting to warm up to Maccabee, though he would not admit it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodywarrior666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodywarrior666/gifts).



BAITSAKHAN, MACCABEE ADLAI, SARAH ALOPAY, RENZO, JAGO TLALOC

_The Depths, Valley of Eternal Life, Sikkim, India_

 

Baitsakhan gets his bearings.

He sees the other Players strewn across the floor.

And the non-Player.

A rare grin flits across his face because finally, _finally_ , the fun can begin.

Baitsakhan walks up to the Cahokian first, sneers down upon her.

This girl is the weakest.  A poor excuse of a Player.  A replacement, so he has heard.  Baitsakhan wonders for a moment how she is still alive, still Playing, then quickly dismisses the thought.  No matter, the girl will be dead soon.  At his hands.

He grabs her by the hair and Olmec by the wrists, and despite both being older than him, and probably three times heavier than him, manages to drag them across the room and deposits them carelessly against the wall, tying them together.

Next he walks to one of the many rifles laid on the ground, checks its cartridge: loaded.  He calmly walks up to the non-Player, the Olmecs accomplice, and shoots him once, twice, thrice in the head.  The shots echo down the hall, eerily bouncing off the stone walls.

It’s music to his ears.

Now that the non-Player is dead and the Players are at his mercy, Baitsakhan supposes it’s time to wake up his alley.

Baitsakhan sighs inwardly.  The Nabatean is too soft, too annoying, too _honourable_.  Does he have to wake him up?  Would it not be easier to put him to eternal slumber?

But no, Maccabee gave him his hand, and Baitsakhan feels indebted to that, ridiculous, suit-wearing boy.  Baitsakhan cannot be indebted to anyone, dead or alive.

If he’s dead, how will Baitsakhan pay him back?

And maybe –– just maybe –– Baitsakhan is starting to warm up to Maccabee, though he would not admit it.

But no, now that Baitsakhan has jost Jalair and Bat and Bold, he has nothing to lose, no weakness, and he intends to keep it that way.  He will not create a new weakness for himself.

He will not make friends.

With these thoughts in mind, he stiffly walks over to the unconscious boy and unceremoniously shoves the smelling salts under his nose, so that Maccabee wakes up spluttering like a fool.

It amuses Baitsakhan.

“We’re not in Bolivia anymore.” Baitsakhan says.

Maccabee gets to his knees.

“Wh’are we?” He slurs, barely coherent.

“Don’t know.  The archway moved us.”  Baitsakhan doesn’t want to sound like an idiot, but his English is barely passing and he can only speak simply, unless he is concentrating.

Which, due to the after-effects of the portal, he isn’t.

Maccabee remembers. “To Sky Key?”

“Think so.”

Maccabee looks left and right. “Where’s it?  Where’s she?”

“Don’t know that either.”

Maccabee slaps himself in the face. “Earth Key?”

Baitsakhan smirks.  “Got it.”

He had slipped in into a pocket on his leg and zippered it shut.

Relief briefly flickers across Maccabees face. “Th’others?”

Baitsakhan just pointed his chin in the general direction of the two unconscious Players.  The dead body of Renzo lies in between them, ignored, unimportant.

Though Maccabees body is still numb, his mind is starting to clear. “You haven’t killed them yet?”

Baitsakhan shrugs nonchalantly.  “Thought you might want to watch.”

He points the rifle at Sarah, then Jago, the muzzle dipping down then up due to his unsteady hands.

“My head is swimming.”

“Mine too.”

Baitsakhan tries to steady his HK G36.  The Cahokian is waking up.

The Olmec is still out.

Baitsakhan aims for the senseless boy’s neck.  If he can’t handle the recoil, then it will force the gun up and take his head.

He pulls the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

AN LIU

_Karaya Road, Beck Bagan, Ballygunge, Kolkata, India_

 

An waits in his base in Kolkata, waits for the bloodbath in the Harappan base to end, with the remnants of Chiyoko hung around his neck.

It brings him peace.

No more hated _BLINKs_ or _shivers_.

“Soon, my love.” He says, toying with the rope of coiled hair, the dried stretches of skin. Pieces of her that make him whole again.  

“Soon this will end, and we will be reunited once more.”

This is all he says, because he knows she will understand.  She always understands.

He plans to die.

Because no one deserves to live.

Especially not An.

And so he Plays on.


	3. Chapter 3

BAITSAKHAN, SARAH ALOPAY, JAGO TLALOC, MACCABEE ADLAI

_ The Depths, Valley of Eternal Life, Sikkim, India _

 

The shot is louder even than the ones that brought the end of Renzo.

It’s deafening, and leaves all the Players reduced to frightened children laying on the ground, hands desperately covering their ears.

Baitsakhan is the first to recover.  So he was the first to notice.

Instead of the Olmec, the Cahokian has been shot, eyes glassy and vacant, sightless, staring into the sky.

She has crumpled in front of the other, a bullet going through her neck and out the other end, a gory, delicious sight to Baitsakhan.

Even better, the bullet has pierced through the girl and lodged itself deep in the flesh of Jago.

Jago Tlaloc, the Olmec, not yet dead, not yet comprehending the situation.

He would in a minute.

His beloved girlfriend was dead.

At the hands of him.

Baitsakhan.

Satisfaction oozed through his body at the thought of the pain, the torture that it would inflict on the boy.  He deserved it.  He deserved it for having such a perfect little life when all Baitsakhan had was a dead family.

Sometimes, it’s more of a torture to go on living than dying.

So Baitsakhan let Jago live.

He stalked out of the room, with Maccabee staring at him in shock for a few moments before hurrying out behind him.

“Baits, what the  _ hell _ was that?”

“Was what?”

“Why’d you let ’em live?”

Baitsakhan’s lips twist into a cruel, maniacal grin. 

“To live with the guilt of knowing the ones you love are dead, and you’re the only one alive, that’s worse than death itself.  I had to live through it, so he does too.”

Maccabee looks at him with undisguised disgust.  I lost my mother too, and yet you don’t see me running around making people’s lives miserable, he wants to scream.  He wants to tell the boy that vengeance isn’t everything, wants to convince him to be more forgiving, because really, he’s starting to like the boy, and doesn’t want to see him fall into the abyss.

But he can’t.

Because Endgame is everything.

Because Endgame is life.

And so, he must Play on.

Finally, after a long pause, Maccabee says gravely,

“To the Endgame, brother.”

“To the Endgame, brother.”


	4. Chapter 4

JAGO TLALOC

_ The Depths, Valley of Eternal Life, Sikkim, India _

 

Everything's a mess.

Jago can’t think straight.  His limbs feel like gelatin.  His face feels like it has been dragged across the floor.  Pain is radiating from his stomach outwards, stretching across his body.

With a groan, the boy opens his eyes.

Only to be met with the sight of his lover, dead on the ground, a bullet wound through her neck.

For a moment, it’s just the Olmec staring wide-eyed at the Cahokian, with the body of his uncle a few metres away, still being ignored.

And then a scream rips through the air, travelling through the corridors to where the Donghu and the Nabatean are.

When the Nabatean hears it, it sends shivers running up and down his spine.

When the Donghu hears it, he laughs.


	5. Chapter 5

MACCABEE ADLAI, BAITSAKHAN

_ The Depths, Valley of Eternal Life, Sikkim, India _

 

Jagos scream is still echoing at the back of his mind, much to Maccabee’s horror.  He feels a rush of pity for the poor boy; no doubt the first thing he saw when he woke up was the corpse of Sarah Alopay.

His dead lover.

Maccabee may be Playing to Win, but he isn’t heartless.

The same cannot be said for the boy next to him, tears of mirth still in his eyes.

Now that they were just walking down the eerily quiet hallways, Maccabee had time to think.  Think about life, think about the Endgame, think about his mother, but most importantly, think about Baitsakhan.

As far as he knew, Baitsakhan had never left Mongolia until the Endgame began.  Maccabee could not imagine that.  As a child he had travelled all over the place to train, being chosen as the Player of his line.  Baitsakhan’s English was barely adequate, unless he was just faking the accent, which Maccabee was fairly certain he wasn’t.  But he couldn’t be sure; despite his lunacy, the Donghu was no doubt one of the strongest and savviest Players still Playing, therefore anything could be an act.

Being the youngest of the Players, the Donghu evidently had a strong disadvantage.

But it was also a benefit; they had all underrated him in the beginning, ignoring him, so that he could catch them by surprise when they fought him.

The first time Maccabee truly fought Baitsakhan one-on-one was the moment he realised how much they had underestimated the moody thirteen-year-old.  He moved with an wolf-like stance, almost as though he  _ was _ a wolf.  Maccabee had been relieved when they had called a truce; he wasn’t sure if he would be able to win against the maniacal child.

Out of the Players, Maccabee prided in the fact that he knew Baitsakhan the best.  Or as well as anyone could know him, anyway.  He knows that Baitsakhan likes biscuits.  He know Baitsakhan is capable of love, but only in the most twisted sense.  He knows that Baitsakhan has no family left.  He feels bad for Baitsakhan, but it’s not like Maccabee’s life perfect either.

He knows, deep down, he doesn’t want to kill the boy.  But he refuses to admit it, even to himself.

Maccabee doesn’t want to kill Baitsakhan, but he knows to win he has to.  His hand inches towards the button on the fob.  

No, he tells himself, Baitsakhan might still be useful to him.  

He can’t kill Baitsakhan yet, because he still might be useful to Maccabee.

At least that’s what he tells himself.

The fob is still in his pocket, cold and radiating death, suddenly so very heavy.


	6. Chapter 6

KEPLER 22B

_ Somewhere in the Sahara Desert, Morocco _

 

Kepler 22b watches the Players Play.

Ea is dead.

Ea is gone.

The Aksumite killed him.

But kepler 22b mourns him not.

He only mourns that the Aksumite will face his punishment in due time.  But not yet.

Still he must wait.

Punishment kepler 22b will definitely enjoy watching.


	7. Chapter 7

MACCABEE ADLAI, BAITSAKHAN, SHARI CHOPRA, AISLING KOPP

_ The Depths, Valley of Eternal Life, Sikkim, India _

 

Each room they passed were filled with dead bodies and discarded rifles.  Each door had been left open.

Except one.

One at the end of the darkest corridor.

At the end of the Harappan base.

Where, behind that wooden door, a battle was raging.

A battle between two women.

A battle between two Players.

A battle between the Harappan and the La Tène.

Of which the La Tène was winning.

Maccabee and Baitsakhan exchanged a glance, and with quick nod from both, they pushed open the door.

And chaos hit them full in the face.

Maccabee does not hesitate to open gunfire, and the moment he barges in shots rip through the air, missing both the Players but knocking down the rest of the Harappan Line.

The Harappan Player wails, momentarily abandoning the fight, to kneel next to a fallen man and weep.  The La Tène is approaching fast, but Maccabee has enough honor to give the Harappan time to mourn, so the two end up engaging in a battle.  Neither sees Baitsakhan, 13th Player of the Donhu Line, creep up from behind, and, with a well-placed stab of his silver dagger, sends Aisling Kopp, 3rd Player of the La Tène Line, crashing down, life leaving her before she hits the ground.

That leaves three Players in the room.

Three Players and a little girl.

Three Players and the Sky Key.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo people.
> 
> i know i posted 7 chapters at once and then forgot to post for the last 2 months, and im sorry, i really am. but i will make up to the small but awesome endgame fandom, i promise!!
> 
> so anyways, this is the next chapter, starring the one and only jago tlaloc, like some of you requested. next chapter will be baitsakhan and maccabee and a couple of others again, and even tho im done, i'll be posting on friday, because im a mean person and i will make you wait
> 
> also, i really want to write more baitsabee, like start another fanfic starring baits and maccabee, but i have no ideas, so plz plz plz send ideas for stories. IM BEGGING YOU

JAGO TLALOC

_ The Depths, Valley of Eternal Life, Sikkim, India _

 

For a long time, Jago just sits there holding the body of what was once his lover.

He stares at her face, her beautiful face, and with two fingers gently nudges her eyes closed.  Her features are serene, as though she is asleep and not dead.

If only.

He tucks a stray curl behind her ear, as though she is not dead. Blond tresses still shine bright with the glow of health, though he knows this will fade rapidly with her life force gone.  

Blond tresses.  He remembers the other love in his life, Alicia.  She was blond too.  A ballerina, graceful, the curve of her limbs like the bow of a willow tree, soft and joyous.  Another life he had ruined.  When he looks at the blood that bubbles up near Sarah’s neck, he remembers the loud crack of a gunshot, the blood that covered his car, when Alicia’s whole life was snatched away from her.  Remembers the white of the hospital, remembers Alicia denying to see him.  

But he knows.

He knows it was just his mother’s plot.  His mother’s plot over his entire life.  He knows Alicia had been blackmailed into writing the letter, knows that Alicia will never be able to walk, not to mention dance, ever again.

Her dream had been crushed because she fell for the wrong boy.

Jago.

It was all his fault.

And now this.

It was all his fault too.

Sarah is dead, gone.  But Alicia is not.

Alicia still lives in England.

Jago rises.  He is done.  Done with the the death, done with the loss.  With each step out the Harappan base, he is leaving his Endgame life behind.  Finally, he is out.  Though he does not know this, he will trek out of the valley and board a plane to England.  All the while, An will be tracking him down, wondering why he has left.  Has he won?  Has he killed the rest?

For Jago Tlaloc, 21st Player of the Olmec line, Endgame is over.

He is leaving Endgame behind.

He will start a new Endgame.

Alicia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this end note is unnecessary, but once again any baitsabee ideas are greatly appreciated. i don't want them to be too ooc, and all the ideas i have are, so plz lend me ur brilliant minds just this once.
> 
> PLZ


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so first off, im really sorry for saying i was going to post and then not posting. 
> 
> i forgot ok, im sorry!!
> 
> its kind of a long(er) chapter, so i hope that make up for the delay in posting.
> 
> also, if they seem ooc, im sorry also, but its hard to write baitsakhan liking anyone without being ooc. hes just a hater. thats kind of why i like him so much tho lol
> 
> anyways, enjoy!! XD

MACCABEE ADLAI, BAITSAKHAN, SHARI CHOPRA, AISLING KOPP

_ The Depths, Valley of Eternal Life, Sikkim, India _

 

For a moment, no one moves.

Shari is still sobbing over the body of the fallen man, the Sky Key now clutching her skirt and looking up at her with large, adoring eyes.

Baitsakhan is unfazed, watching the scene with no emotion in his eyes, but making no move to kill the borderline hysterical Harappan.

Maccabee looks as though he has not yet processed what was going on, holding the still-warm body of La Tène in shock.

And then everything whirs into motion.

The Sky Key whips around and throws herself at the Donghu’s leg, much to his disgust, who tries in vain to shake off her vice like grip.  The Harappan, seeing that her daughter has launched herself at the maniac, screams and runs towards the fray, along with the Nabatean.

Everything's a mess.

And Baitsakhan loves messes.

If not for the stupid little girl clinging to his pants with a possessive look in her eyes, one that a two year old should never ever have.

It’s the look of someone who’s not in control of their body, of their thoughts.

The look of someone who’s dead inside.

It creeped him out, reminded him of what was not to be reminded.

His mother.

His sisters.

Driven insane.

Left to die.

Each of them, one mentally and two physically, gone.

Just like that, gone.

Baitsakhan struggles harder, to get rid of the girl and rid of the memories.

All in vain.

He sees the Cahokian, the previous Cahokian Player, who thought it would be oh so wise to attack the Donghu camp, in the middle of the night, with no honor whatsoever.

That was before Baitsakhan lost his sense of honor. 

That was why Baitsakhan lost his sense of honor.

He sees the maniacal light that ignites in the Player’s eyes, sees from across the tent the blade fall in slow motion.  The blood seeping out of her neck in quick squirts of blood as she sinks to the floor.

Squirts of blood draining her.

Remnants of life fading.

He sees as the Players knife, in the same motion, stabs the temple of the child the girl was holding.  Her skull breaks with a crack, brains and blood spilling out.

His mother screams in the distance; watching both her daughters fall under the same blow has deprived her of sanity.

The last bit of honor he has flows out with the blood that pools on the floor of his yurt.

He remembers launching himself at the boy, barely older than sixteen, who had just slaughtered his family in front of his eyes.  He sees the look of horror on the boy’s face as he realises there was one thing he didn’t expect, one variable he didn’t factor into the equation.

The boy who treasured his family above all.

The nine-year-old killer.

The Donghu Player-elect.

Baitsakhan.

He doesn’t remember what happened.  Only  _ Make him pay, make him pay, make him pay _ , repeated over and over as if on tape.  And the blood.  The blood that covered his hands, his face, his mouth, the blood that flowed freely from wounds, indescribably gory, the blood that mixed into that of his sister’s.

When Jalair finds him the next morning, he’s stained red with the life force of one that was no longer there and still mauling at the destroyed carcass, disfigured beyond repair, a glazed look in his eyes, with his mother still on the ground, fainted.  Jalair looks around and sees his teenage sister, Sarangerel, who would have turned fifteen in a few days, sprawled across the floor, blood already stale and solidifying around her head like a bloody halo, and Otgonbayar, the two-year-old with eyes that always used to sparkle, next to her, glassy orbs staring up into nothing.

And even though Mongolian men do not cry, he sheds a few tears over his ruined family.

With a cry of pure agony, Baitsakhan succeeds in throwing the girl off, who is thrown against the stone wall, and then curls up on himself, his tough demeanor breaking into unrecognisable shards.

The Harappan cares only for her child, and with a wail launches herself at the fallen Sky Key, training kicking in, and checks frantically for a pulse.  The once strong-minded Player, with the loss of her entire line, has finally lost control.

But the Nabatean, who calls himself Maccabee Adlai, he cares nothing for the toddler, only for the boy on the ground, the one whose whole life had been molded into that of a serial killer, the barely-eligible Player of thirteen, who was, perhaps, the most deadly of them all.

He tells himself it’s because the boy is still useful, but really, it’s not.

Maccabee’s life was not perfect either, but he knows, compared to the other, his struggles are nothing.

Of course, he himself does not know yet.  Perhaps he will never know.  But whatever could have made a child of thirteen so twisted could not have been pleasant in the least.

The moment he approaches the the other, he knows something is wrong.  More wrong than he could have ever thought.  At first, he had wondered if it were just the excursion of throwing the other off that made him as such, but now, looking through the windows of his eyes into his shattered soul, Maccabee realised it was something much worse.

Baitsakhan was near delirious, muttering words in what Maccabee knew to be Mongolian and an occasional phrase in Chinese or Russian.  Having learned no Mongolian, minimal Chinese and adequate Russian, Maccabee could only barely get the gist of what he was saying.

The word  _ death _ and  _ don’t leave _ and  _ mother _ were heard quite a few times, as well as a few words Maccabee guessed were names, at which the older boy winced.

Now he knew, or at least guessed correctly.

Baitsakhan’s family.

They were all dead.

And, even though he knew he should have no compassions for the least compassionate of them all, he still felt a rush of overwhelming pity for the barely teenage boy, whose whole family was already lost.

Gone.

Slaughtered.

Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around the younger, smaller, boy, who, to his amazement, did nothing to express displeasure, just leaned into him, trembling.

Maccabee almost dropped the other in surprise.

Never, even in sleep, had Baitsakhan’s hard demeanor drop this drastically.

Never.

What he had seen much have broke him on the inside.

They stayed like that for a long time, Baitsakhan cradled by Maccabee, Shari holding the Sky Key.

Even though they are still Playing, even with everything at stake, they stayed like that for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whaddya think?? who should i write next?? any comments (and kudos) are welcome, so plz plz plz help!!
> 
> I NEED IDEAS!! (plz??)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys im sorry it took so long to update ;-;
> 
> its a rlly short chapter too, i kinda hate it, but oh well
> 
> i swear i'll do better next time

An frowns at the screen in front of him, still toying with the necklace hanging about his neck.

It had become a habit, a constant in his life, the one thing that still tethered him to this world.  This world without Chiyoko Takeda.

On the computer in front of him, a dot is slowly moving southwards, away from the others.  

It has been for the last six hours.

This one is the one symbolizing the Olmec.

Jago Tlaloc is the name he recalls.

But what is this Player doing, so far away from the Sky Key?  Perhaps he is wounded?  Perhaps he _has_ the Sky Key?

Another hour passes in silence, just like so many before it.

The dot has sped up, and has now reached Gangtok, what An knows to be the biggest city in Sikkim, India.

It stops for another hour, just stops completely, as though waiting for something.  Or perhaps he has been killed by another Player.  An would like that.

To his utter disappointment, the dot starts moving again, faster, faster…

It’s going towards north-west, perhaps towards Europe.  An quickly hacks into the system, tracks down exactly where the Olmec is going.  He flies past the firewalls, into the Gangtok airport files, locates the exact flight this Player has taken.

Finds that his flight’s destination is Heathrow Airport, London, with a stop at Delhi on the way.

He grins to himself, subconsciously starts stroking Chiyoko’s necklace again.  This makes his job easier, a ten-fold.  Quick calculations tell An that it will take approximately 22 hours for him to arrive at his final destination.  Except, An will make sure he does not arrive at his destination.

The grin adorning An’s face turns feral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh. this is what, 200 words? 300 at best. 
> 
> im so sorry i made y'all wait so long, and then only posted this.
> 
> plz forgive me D:


End file.
